The Cloud Ocean

Sajama – August 2025

Posted on 2026/06/29 by Ian

Contents

Sajama

Sajama, at 6542m, is the highest mountain of Bolivia. An enormous extinct volcano, the standard route to the summit involves mostly straightforward glacier travel above the high camp at ~5675m, which can itself be hiked from rough 4×4 accessible parking at ~4875m. Whilst technically simple during the normal May to September climbing season, Sajama is enormously prominent and hugely exposed; the mountain experiences frequent, violent windstorms. I ascended to the summit of Sajama, via its normal Northwest Ridge route and accompanied by Bolivian mountain guide Marcelo ‘Chelo’ Gomez, on August 5^th, six days after arriving in La Paz.

Trip Report

I visited Bolivia in the summer of 2025 with the primary objective of making an ascent of 6485m Illampu, a gorgeous tectonic pyramid far north of Sajama. I had been interested in attempting Illampu for many years, ever since seeing its complex summit looming on the front cover of Yossi Brain’s Bolivia guidebook, and reading about its challenging, airy routes. Illampu kept coming into focus for me; it came up in conversation in various basecamps, a friend had stories of his first ascent on one of its harder direct lines, and Brain’s cover photo continued to inspire me from the bookshelf.

Illampu, adorning the cover of Brain’s guidebook

Ultimately my 2025 trip was quite disappointing; I failed rather low on Illampu, vomiting into the Bergshrund at the base of the route as my highpoint. Food poisoning from a rest day in La Paz, after Sajama, proved too persistent to shake, and left me weak and compromised for the majority of my time in Bolivia.

My visit to Sajama National Park was intended only as a preparatory warmup for Illampu, and indeed, I had never intended to attempt Sajama itself on this trip! My original plan going into the summer was to ascend lower and easier 6000m walkups, then head to Illampu once properly acclimated for more technical climbing. Looking back, it is remarkable that I summited Sajama at all, and as I write with the benefit of hindsight, Sajama stands in my mind as a proud, memorable ‘consolation prize’ outcome to the summer. At the very outset, my flights to Bolivia were delayed by over 30 hours, time which I was forced to spend waiting around in the San Salvador and Bogota airports. It is interesting to note that it is quite possible this time wasn’t entirely wasted; given the Bogota airport stands at 2550m, I reckon that spending a day sitting around there may have contributed to preliminary acclimatization. I ultimately arrived in La Paz two days later than planned, and frenetically rushed through my early acclimatization schedule so as to maintain enough time for a proper Illampu attempt. I had planned to spend a few days sport climbing near La Paz for active acclimatization – this became one day, the afternoon of my arrival! The sudden elevation gain was ruinous, and whilst I managed to onsight a few scrappy routes, I found myself getting totally gassed, lightheaded and dizzy, when linking more than a few moderate movements together. I was not acclimated well at all, and due to time-frames throughout the duration of the entire trip I never really adapted fully.

Further delay struck on the road to Sajama town from La Paz. Apparently a conflict had broken out between police and smugglers, and the two lane road was blocked by both a burning car and a burning 18-wheeler full of contraband! This bizarre, incredibly sketchy scene cost us several hours, and had us arriving into Sajama much later than planned. Far behind schedule, there was nothing to do but grin and bear it, and adapt the plan towards seeing if I could move faster. I aggressively pushed, in the hopes of expediting my acclimatization. Ironically, ‘pushing it’ often meant sleeping early, eating loads of food, hydrating more than I normally would, napping a lot, finding every opportunity possible to take downtime and maximize recovery. It seemed to work, as I managed an uncomfortable summit of 6052m Acotango, a volcano adjacent to Sajama, on my fourth day in Bolivia. Prior to this trip, my fastest time to 6000m ‘from sea level’ had been 8 full days, when on Pik Lenin in 2017. Starting with ‘day 1 from sea level’ in Bogota Airport at 2550m, I managed to ascend to 6000m in five days from sea level on this trip.

From the summit of Acotango, Sajama immediately caught my eye and tugged at my sense of ambition – it’s an impressive, ruggedly gorgeous volcanic cone from all aspects, and when viewed from high on Acotango takes on a surreal, alien aspect. The southern Bolivian volcanos are remarkably prominent to begin with, but it is their unique environment which largely contributes to making them so unusual to look upon. Standing above desolate Altiplano, there is no mountain range or obstruction of any sort to the clarity of their figure, and with uniquely low humidity and clean air in the remote high-elevation national park, the range of visibility is incredible. Atop Acotango, thoroughly thrashed by elevation, viewing Sajama and Los Payachetas, the twin volcanos Parinacota and Pomerape, all three peaks took on a sort of ferocity to my eye. They’re so clear, abrupt, and ‘factual’; their landscape looks like it shouldn’t exist, but it unapologetically does exist, and the mountains look close enough to grasp if merely reaching out. Could an ascent of Sajama be made by investing an additional day and a half, if returning to La Paz directly from the summit? Chelo assured me that we could pull it off, given my pace on Acotango. On return to our hostel in Sajama town, I immediately went into hibernation mode, taking a two hour nap and managing ten hours of sleep overnight.

The climbing on Sajama was fairly accessible the entire way. Reaching the high camp involves a short drive and an easy trek, and the route to the top is never steep or exposed. Fields of sharp penitentes – snow ‘blade’ or ‘wave’ formations unique to equatorial mountains – did pose an interesting obstacle above high camp, but were not difficult to navigate. The high camp itself was comfortable, with numerous established tent platforms and rock walls, and the route had a well broken boot pack from frequent climber traffic. I summited Sajama on my 7^th day from sea level (counting Bogota as day 1), or on my 6^th data from La Paz – an absolutely unprecedented rapid ascent for me, personally, and this pace of ascent made for a significant challenge due to inadequate acclimation. On summit day I struggled to maintain output, was especially sluggish when ascending the final ~100m, and felt intensely miserable atop the summit plateau! The summit is broad and featureless, scoured raw by harsh wind, and felt unpleasantly cold in the early morning – we departed out tent at 2:55 a.m. and reached the top at 7:15 a.m. My pace felt miserably slow at the time, but I did pass almost all but one of the climbers who left earlier and were on the route ahead of me – it’s very hard to gauge how the balance of fitness and terrible acclimation impacted my speed.

Views from the top were clear, but I was so slammed by altitude that I wasn’t able to properly enjoy them! Sajama’s early morning shadow stretched out far below us, reaching all the way to Los Payachatas. I took photos from all perspectives, Chelo took my photo, and another Bolivian climber took a photo of Chelo and I – we quickly began to descend. The climb down was very quick, and we found ourselves in high camp at 9:15 a.m. From there a quick descent to our car, and a long drive, took us back to La Paz on the same afternoon as the summit. It’s surreal how rapid access to high peaks can be in South America, as compared to the great ranges in Asia where significant, multi-day approaches are often required.

One rest day fit into my remaining schedule, and within this singular day of downtime I managed to pick up fairly severe food poisoning in La Paz. In spite of Immodium, I was sick and weak for the remainder of the trip, and had a tough time even getting into the highcamp for Illampu. On Illampu I managed to reach the base of the route, the bergshrund, where I repeatedly vomited, felt thoroughly miserable, and decided to bail. Ironically, the Illampu leg of my trip which was responsible for stimulating such a rushed pace on Sajama, was significantly more expensive and time consuming than Sajama, and was ultimately far, far worse of an experience than the pre-acclimatization ‘warmup’. Food poisoning when traveling is often out of our control, but I found myself wondering how awesome the trip might have been if I’d just gone solo and spent the entire time within the Sajama region!

Perhaps a return to Bolivia is in my future? It might make sense to go for a longer time-frame on the next visit, with a partner, and incorporate more sport climbing into the trip – the rock around La Paz is certainly interesting, and there appears to be quite a lot of potential for a ‘mixed’ rock and altitude trip! Illampu is still on my radar – possibly with a warmup on both of the Los Payachatas volcanoes next time?

Images

Huayna Potosí – August 2014

Posted on 2015/02/23 by Ian

Huayna Potosi, from a graveyard near the Zongo Pass.

6088m Huayna Potosi is indisputedly Bolivia’s most popular climb, largely due to very easy access from nearby La Paz. Referred to by some as the world’s ‘easiest’ 6000m peak, Huayna Potosi presents a straightforward glacier climb made worthwhile by two short yet interesting technical obstacles and excellent views from the summit.

Huayna Potosi from the northwest, on the approach to Pequeno Alpamayo.

While climbing and camping in Bolivia’s Condoriri group of mountains I met Pedro, a mountain guide and the nephew of my 1:1 guide in the Cordillera Real. The two of us hit it off, and together we made a plan for a lightweight attempt on Huayna Potosi. Packing minimal glacier gear, some water and basic snack food, we intended to climb the mountain in a single push overnight.

My equipment and supplies for the climb.

Packed and ready to go.

Pedro and I left La Paz by car at 7 p.m. and arrived at the 4700m Zongo Pass trailhead a few hours later. We caught a few hours of sleep in the nearby basecamp hostel, where Pedro had friends and access to mattresses for us. Awake at midnight, we quickly drank some tea and started moving, wearing hiking boots and carrying our climbing boots over the shoulder. From the basecamp a short hike of around one hour took us over moraine and rocky slopes to the high camp refuge, where most climbers spend a night before beginning their summit push. At this point we were both overheated and sweating from nearly jogging the approach hike, and so stopped inside the refuge to dry off, hydrate, and change into plastic boots. As we rested in the refuge several large groups of climbers were finishing their own preparations and leaving in waves to begin climbing towards the summit. Pedro and I waited for the last of them to leave and started out from the refuge at around 2 a.m.

Looking down the lower glacier. The high camp refuge is center right, and the rocky approach hike stretches out to the road.

Quickly making the edge of the glacier, the climb started off straightforward and only moderately sloped. Tens of headlights shone off the snow and ice, illuminating the darkness ahead. These belonged to lines of roped climbers, big guided teams who had set out from the refuge before us. With no fear of hidden crevasses on the well-travelled route Pedro and I moved unroped and fast. Shortly we found ourselves climbing alone into the darkness, the lights of the others stretched out below. We soon reached the first semi-technical obstacle of the climb, a bergschrund crossing involving a ~5m chute of 70-80 degree ice. Using my general-purpose ax’s pick for leverage I took five or six moves to scale the wall. The bergschrund presented only a short break to the otherwise simple climbing, but the fast moves up steep ice and our rapid pace made for a feeling of excitement. Following the glacier straight upwards and across slightly steeper terrain, to a maximum of around 45 degrees, we soon reached the base of the summit ridge and final section of climbing leading directly to the top. We were too early for the sun’s warmth, and the freezing winds on the exposed ridge above held us off. Pedro and I waited below the ridge for around twenty five minutes, and only as the sun began to rise on the horizon did we move onwards.

The summit ridge was very narrow and exposed to sheer drop-offs. While not particularly steep, the level of exposure and delicate footing required complete focus. We moved across the ridge carefully and soon found ourselves at the top, a sharp and corniced point with nowhere higher to climb. It had been four hours since we left the high camp refuge. While we were the first ones on the summit we didn’t have it to ourselves for long, and a large group of ~10 climbers quickly arrived after us. We decided to move off of the summit proper, nervous of the number of people now standing on the corniced overhang, and stood on the ridgeline just below taking photographs and admiring the incredible views. Illimani and Mururata were clearly visible on the skyline, as were the lights of nearby La Paz. The sunrise cast a glow over the mountain, and with it brought welcome warmth. As the summit grew more and more crowded, we decided to begin descending.

The corniced summit of Huayna Potosi and a large group of climbers.

Looking across the ridge just below the summit, Mururata and Illimani on the horizon.

Sunrise begins over the glacier.

Sunrise over the cloud ocean far below.

Mururata and Illimani.

Illimani from near the summit of Huayna Potosi.

We put our rope to use during the first section of descent immediately below the summit, a steep downclimb of the face below the summit ridge. Once off of this steep section we unclipped and continued descending at a brisker pace. In sunlight the size and beauty of Huayna Potosi’s glacier became apparent.

Looking back at the upper glacier.

Crevasses off-route.

We crossed several deep crevasses by jumping them.

Our descent took us across several open crevasses.

Arriving back at the high camp refuge in good time we stopped to take a rest and drink some water. After switching back into trekking boots and packing up our axes and cold weather gear we took our time during the hike out to Zongo Pass and the car, enjoying the sunshine and views of the mountain behind us.

Looking back at Huayna Potosi.

On the drive back to La Paz we stopped by a nearby lake to take one last look at the mountain. It was very satisfying to admire Huayna Potosi’s aesthetics knowing that we had stood upon its summit just hours earlier.

Huayna Potosi, from the road to La Paz near Zongo Pass.

Huayna Potosi was an enjoyable and very fun climb, largely due to our approach of tackling it in a single fast and light overnight push. Climbing a 6000m peak overnight was exciting, and the exposure of the summit ridge made for an interesting finish.

Accessibility

Huayna Potosi is the most popular climb in Bolivia and transport, logistics, and guiding services are easy to find in La Paz. Zongo Pass can also apparently be accessed by public bus. There are no permit or access fees. At just over 6000m, Huayna Potosi is a high altitude climb. Acclimatization is important. I acclimatized by hiking and climbing in the nearby Condoriri group of mountains. For logistics and a 1:1 guide I used the services of Eduardo Mamani and his company http://www.bolivianmountainguides.com/. During my trip I climbed with Eduardo himself, as well as with his brother Gregorio and their nephew Pedro. All three are certified UIAGM / IFMGA guides, are exceptionally strong, professional, and personable. When I return to Bolivia I will, without doubt, contact Eduardo again.

Pequeño Alpamayo – July 2014

Posted on 2015/01/11 by Ian

Pequeno Alpamayo, from the summit of Tarija peak.

5370m Pequeño Alpamayo is one of Bolivia’s most famous mountains, and a popular climb. With a striking appearance and aesthetic normal route, Pequeño Alpamayo was one of my main climbing objectives in visiting Bolivia.

Pequeno Alpamayo’s striking ridgeline seen in profile, from the summit of Piramide Blanca.

Pequeño Alpamayo is named for its larger Peruvian cousin Alpamayo, considered by many to be the most beautiful mountain in the world. A part of the Condoriri range of mountains, the climb started with a ~2 hour drive from La Paz. I planned to spend several days in the area, and tackle a few 5000+m peaks to acclimatize for higher climbing.

The parking area and beginning of the hike to basecamp.

The basecamp for the Condoriri mountains is a mountain lake called Chiar Khota. From the parking area we hired mules to haul our camping gear and food up to the lake, and set off with light packs. The hike into basecamp took around 2 hours at a leisurely pace.

Arriving at Chiar Khota.

Basecamp.

The basecamp sits at ~4700m and is a lovely spot, with great views of surrounding mountains. The main peak of the group, Cabeza de Condor, stands nearby.

Cabeza de Condor, the highest peak of the Condoriri group, from basecamp.

Cabeza de Condor, from the summit of Pico Austria.

Prior to my ascent of Pequeño Alpamayo I spent a day ascending a nearby trekking peak, ~5350m Pico Austria, and an easy glaciated summit, ~5350m Piramide Blanca. This hiking, paired with several nights’ rest at basecamp, had me quite well acclimatized before beginning on Pequeño Alpamayo. Having already enjoyed some great views of Pequeño Alpamayo from the other summits, I was excited to climb its lovely ridgeline.

The normal route on Pequeno Alpamayo, a direct ridgeline. On the day I climbed Piramide Blanca several teams were attempting Pequeno Alpamayo and could be seen in profile.

Awake early, my guide and climbing partner Gregorio and I started off from basecamp at 4:10 a.m., and quickly gained the glacier which leads to Tarija peak. Pequeño Alpamayo lies behind several other mountains, and is accessed by first ascending Tarija, itself a small 5000m peak. Gaining the top of Tarija was straightforward enough, as having ascended the same glacier the day prior while climbing Piramide Blanca Gregorio and I knew where the crevasses were.

From the top of Tarija peak we descended down the other side, a fun rock slope to downclimb in crampons and plastic boots. I had read trip reports of this section being somewhat tricky, but with minimal ice and snow I found it to be an enjoyable scramble.

At the base of Pequeno Alpamayo, Tarija peak behind me.

Behind Tarija peak the real climbing began. Pequeño Alpamayo stood in front of me, absolutely gorgeous in the morning light. The mountain looked unreal, pristine and crisp. Having overtaken another team during the rocky descent from Tarija peak, Gregorio and I were the first two to climb the ridge, and had no other climbers on the mountain in front of us.

Pequeno Alpamayo at sunrise.

From the base of Tarija a short flat section led to a sharp but nearly level ridge, which itself led to the base of Pequeño Alpamayo’s summit ridge. Climbing unroped to this point, Gregorio and I decided that the snow conditions were good enough to continue climbing separately and without using protection. Gregorio graciously offered to let me take the lead, and so the route lay open before me.

At the base of the summit ridge, getting ready to cross one final crevasse.

Gregorio and I reached the summit at 8:10 a.m., four hours after leaving camp and the first ones on top for the day. The snow conditions were excellent for most of the way up, with only a few short sections of ice. Climbing unroped and leading at my own pace felt fantastic, and kept me completely focused throughout the entire climb.

On the summit of Pequeno Alpamayo.

6088m Huayna Potosi was prominently visible from the summit, and looked much closer than it actually was. I would head to Huayna Potosi a few days later and ascend it in a single overnight push with Gregorio’s cousin Pedro.

Huayna Potosi, from the summit of Pequeno Alpamayo.

After spending some thirty minutes on the summit enjoying the views and resting, it was time to head down.

Looking down the summit ridge from just below the top.

We down climbed most of the way, but used a single rappel to get past the steepest middle section of the ridge. Our descent was fast, yet trickier than the ascent. From the base of the summit ridge we crossed back to Tarija peak, scrambled back to the top, and began the long trudge back down the main glacier and to basecamp.

Looking back at Pequeno Alpamayo from the base of the summit ridge.

We returned to camp by 11:30 a.m., where I cooked up some lunch and took a rest in my tent.

Pequeño Alpamayo had been a clean, aesthetically pleasing climb. Climbing free and unroped to the summit was an incredible experience for both my confidence and focus. Gregorio was a pleasant climbing companion, and I was delighted that he let me lead the summit ridge – being the first to the top made the climb all the more unforgettable.

Pequeño Alpamayo is a peak which I can see myself visiting again. The Condoriri group is an ideal area to acclimatize for Bolivia’s 6000m mountains, and Pequeño Alpamayo is too lovely a summit to pass on. While Cabeza de Condor was an objective of mine on this trip I didn’t even manage to set foot on it’s glacier, leaving me with a strong desire to return.

Accessibility

Pequeño Alpamayo is a very popular climb, and transport, logistics, or guiding services are easy to find in La Paz. There are no permit fees, but a small fee is charged on a per-tent basis by the caretakers at Chiar Khota.

At just over 5000m Pequeño Alpamayo can be climbed fairly quickly after arrival in Bolivia. La Paz is a high altitude city, and a few days there paired with a couple of nights in basecamp would probably be adequate acclimatization for a strong climber. I acclimatized on nearby peaks before climbing Pequeño Alpamayo, and feel that moving slowly with acclimatization contributed significantly to my enjoyment of the climb.

For logistics and a 1:1 guide I used the services of Eduardo Mamani and his company http://www.bolivianmountainguides.com/. I climbed with Eduardo’s brother Gregorio while in the Condoriri, and I met Eduardo’s nephew Pedro while hanging around basecamp. I later climbed Huayna Potosi with Pedro and Illimani with Eduardo himself. All three are certified UIAGM / IFMGA guides, and are exceptionally strong, professional, and personable. Eduardo and Gregorio have been climbing in Bolivia for decades, and have an astonishing amount of experience and knowledge. I highly recommend their services. When I return to Bolivia I will, without doubt, contact them again.

Illimani – August 2014

Posted on 2014/11/02 by Ian

Illimani, from the road to Pinaya.

At 6438m Illimani stands as Bolivia’s second highest, and one of the country’s most beautiful peaks. Seen from nearby La Paz Illimani seems small and close, but in reality is awe inspiringly massive, with five distinct summits. Illimani’s south summit is the mountain’s high point and is accessed by the standard western climbing route.

Mururata (left) and Illimani (right) at sunrise, from the summit of Huayna Potosi.

Illimani was one of my primary climbing goals in visiting Bolivia, and the last peak which I would attempt on my trip. Prior to Illimani I had spent a good amount of time camping at altitudes of around ~4500m, and had climbed 6088m Huayna Potosi just a few days earlier. Thoroughly acclimatized and having performed well physically during my other climbs, albeit not feeling perfect due to recent food poisoning, my guide Eduardo and I planned to make the climb overnight, spending just a few hours resting at a high camp.

The valley road to Pinaya

Day 1: Eduardo met me at my Hostel in La Paz early in the morning, and after a fast breakfast we began the long drive to the village of Pinaya. From La Paz the route took us around four hours, first across the city, and then along a dirt road through a scenic valley. The mountain could be seen ahead of us throughout the drive, and its features slowly began to take on definition as we grew closer.

Illimani in the distance, from the road to Pinaya.

We arrived in Pinaya before noon, and stopped in the central square nearby the schoolhouse. Pinaya is a rural village, and very small. In Pinaya we hired two locals to work as porters to help us carry gear to high camp. They hopped into the truck with us, and we continued to drive upwards along a narrow and dilapidated dirt road.

I typically feel uncomfortable at the idea of using the service of porters, but our climbing plan involved a same-day summit push for which we needed to be fully energized. This would be my first experience employing porters, and after the fact I am still unsure regarding the ethics of having other people haul gear for you. My mentality stands that a climber should be capable of managing their own gear and climbing under their own power. In the case of Illimani, the effort of our porters moving gear to high camp was a factor in enabling us to climb Illimani over a single night, rather than following the traditional three or four day schedule. The locals in Pinaya greatly benefit from the arrangement, and make a high wage for a day’s work assisting climbers.

After some 45 minutes of rough driving out of Pinaya we reached Puente Roto, a large grass covered field and the base camp for Illimani. Here we sorted out equipment, had a quick lunch in the car, and at 12:15 p.m. began hiking upwards along a path of scree.

The lower slopes of Illimani.

The route to high camp traverses numerous scree fields and large swathes of smooth rock ground down over time by ancient glacial movement. Several runoff streams cut across the path, and distant waterfalls can be heard along the route. Illimani’s glacier has receded considerably, and as we hiked Eduardo shared stories of the Illimani he remembered from his youth, when the glacier covered most of the now-barren lower slopes.

The lower slopes of Illimani.

The views grew increasingly impressive as we moved upwards, and I began to appreciate how absolutely enormous a mountain Illimani is.

The lower glaciers of Illimani.

View of the glacier from the high camp approach hike.

At exactly 4:00 p.m. we arrived at 5500m Nido de Condores, “The Condor’s Nest”, a small rocky outcrop and the high camp for Illimani’s normal route. Here we quickly pitched our tents and settled in for an afternoon of rest and hydration.

We were not alone at high camp, and three other groups were also preparing for a summit attempt. After a light dinner, I went to sleep early.

My one-person tent at Nido de Condores.

The south summit, not visible, lies beyond the false-summit in this photograph, to the climber’s right from Nido de Condores.

Day 2: Awake around 1 a.m., Eduardo and I began climbing upwards at 2:20 a.m. We roped up almost immediately after leaving camp. While Illimani’s normal route is not particularly steep or technical, with a maximum slope of around 50 degrees, it does follow several ridges exposed to sheer drop-offs where a fall would be difficult to arrest.

Starting steady and strong, passing another group within the first hour, some three hours into the climb I felt myself flagging mentally. The snow condition was good, the wind cold but manageable. Despite fairly unpleasant stomach issues two days earlier my breathing was steady and controlled, my legs and body mechanically driving upwards without serious fatigue, but my thoughts drifted. When I considered the summit I felt empty. The altitude weighed on me and I felt lethargic, completely unmotivated. My pace slowed us down, and a group of four passed us. I began to consciously question my purpose, the rationale behind each step upwards. We pressed on, stopping occasionally for water breaks.

The sky above us began to take on a faint glow, as sunrise bloomed on the other side of the mountain. Illimani is a notoriously cold climb chiefly due to its standard route taking a western approach, shaded from the sun until relatively late in the morning, and compounded by the mountain’s prominence and exposure to wind. As the sky brightened and cast textured shadows onto the snow underfoot we crested a false summit, and ahead of us could see the team of four climbing the final ridge to the south summit and highpoint.

Eduardo and I reached the summit at 6:50 a.m., four and a half hours after leaving camp. While a ‘normal’ time for this route is 5-7 hours, my climb felt sluggish and not particularly efficient. I was happy to stand atop Illimani, but my mind did not register a sense of accomplishment.

Sunrise on Illimani.

The north and central summits of Illimani in the distance.

Eduardo on the summit of Illimani.

Atop Illimani’s south summit.

Illimani’s shadow stretched out far below us.

After some twenty minutes on the summit Eduardo and I began to head back down. The descent was fast and the route clear to follow in daylight. We encountered another team still ascending and wished them good luck. The fourth team on the mountain, a Mexican group who had shared camp with us, had turned around. They would later tell me that their pace was too slow, and thus the climb too cold, perhaps too fatigued from their gear haul to high camp earlier in the day.

Nido de Condores quickly came into sight below us, my tent a tiny spot of color.

Nido de Condores, center of the picture, at the left end of the ridge.

Nido de Condores

Descending the final ridge to high camp, the team of four ahead of us.

We reached camp at 9:00 a.m., having descended from the summit in under two hours. I took an hour to nap in my tent before rising to pack up gear and prepare for our descent to Puente Roto and the truck.

The drive back to La Paz was long and uneventful, but the mountain rose behind us the entire way, tall and surreal, making it difficult to believe that we had stood upon its summit just hours earlier.

Looking back at Illimani during the approach hike.

Illimani above the clouds, from the valley road to Pinaya.

Illimani is an enormous and aesthetically attractive mountain. Weather during the climbing season in Bolivia is typically very stable, and I enjoyed clear skies during the night of our ascent. Moderate wind resulted in a cold climb, but my gear and pace were up to the conditions. While high altitude made physical output strenuous and tiring, and could perhaps be entirely to blame for my apathetic mental state, the climb did not otherwise feel particularly difficult. Indeed, I would argue that the bergschrund and summit ridge of Huayna Potosi several days earlier posed greater challenges than anything I encountered on Illimani. The lack of mental focus which I encountered on Illimani was a first experience for me, and in hindsight serves as a motivation for better commitment and emotional investment into future climbs.

I had an excellent experience in Bolivia, and intend to visit again. While I ‘only’ climbed five of the country’s peaks, all popular trade routes, I was very pleased to manage two overnight 6000 meter summits and a fun unroped ascent of Pequeno Alpamayo.

Accessibility

Illimani is one of Bolivia’s more popular climbs, and numerous support agencies offer transport, logistics, and guiding services for the mountain. The largest hurdle in accessibility is the lengthy and involved drive to basecamp, taking some ~4 hours from downtown La Paz. Eduardo and I rode in his 4×4, but chartered vehicles for unguided climbers can also be hired from outfitting companies. There are no permit or access fees associated with climbing Illimani.

At over 6000m, Illimani is a high altitude climb. Adequate acclimatization is of critical importance to a safe and successful climb. I acclimatized by spending extra time in La Paz, by hiking and climbing in the nearby Condoriri group of mountains, and through a fast overnight ascent of 6088m Huayna Potosi. I started climbing Illimani after spending over a week at high altitudes.

For logistics and a 1:1 guide I used the services of Eduardo Mamani and his company http://www.bolivianmountainguides.com/. During my trip I climbed with Eduardo himself, as well as with his brother Gregorio and nephew Pedro. All three are certified UIAGM / IFMGA guides, are exceptionally strong, professional, and personable. Eduardo and Gregorio have been climbing in Bolivia for decades, and have an astonishing amount of experience and knowledge. I highly recommend their services. When I return to Bolivia I will, without doubt, contact them again.